I'll Be There For You
by TwiceKnightley
Summary: The friendship between Elvis Harte and Charles James was a strong one and withstood a LOT. This is a tribute to the character that was Elvis.
1. Chapter 1

**This was something that was going through my head after the ending of last Tuesday's episode. I apologise it's another sad one but we all know how it ended so… I hope I've done their friendship justice. Once more the story is complete, only 5 chapters this time so I'm just going to post one after another.** **Kat**

The hammering at the door brought him violently out of a deep dream filled sleep, reaching automatically for his gun before realising that he was in his own house, in his own bed, not in a tent in the middle of some godforsaken war zone. Rolling upright he reached for the combats he'd taken off not two hours earlier. A quick glance at the clock showed him it was 03.48 and whoever was still hammering at his door was seriously pissing him off. Taking the stairs two at a time he yanked the door open with such force he had to grab at it to stop it from crashing in to the wall to the side "What?" he demanded in a surly tone, peering out in to the cold dark night. He hadn't slept for seventy-two hours and he was not in the mood for kids messing about, although what kids would be doing out at that time his tired brain couldn't fathom.

He hadn't bothered to switch a light on in his haste to stop the incessant banging and the street light hadn't been working when he arrived home shortly after 01:00 which left him peering blindly into the darkness. A sudden movement to the side triggered the security light, illuminating the front step, revealing the disheveled figure of a fellow soldier. Barely able to recognise his friend, his combats, pips and insignia were the only things he did recognise. The man standing before him was totally wasted, hardly able to stand, his hair falling over his forehead and into his bloodshot eyes. Stubbled darkening his jaw and blood trickling from a graze on one cheek was the only colour in his face. He was shaking as he stumbled forward in to the hallway.

"Charlie?" "Elvis?" He made a grab for his friend and brought him to sit on the stairs while he took care of the door and switched the light on. "She's gone, she's fucking gone! Just… gone!" The smell of whisky was strong on his breath, a pretty good indicator as to the cause of his current condition. Sliding an arm around him, Elvis eased Lieutenant Charles James of the Royal Regiment Of Fusiliers on to his feet and down the short hallway in to the sitting room where he deposited him non too gently on to the sofa before going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water which he handed to his friend.

"What the fuck are you talking about, mate? How did you get here? I hope you didn't drive in that state?" Swaying precariously on the edge of the sofa, Charles stared vacantly at his friend. "Wha…" he began only to be distracted by something in the side pocket of his combats. Getting unsteadily to his feet he reached in and produced a set of house keys. "Ah ha." He studied the keys carefully as if they held the answer to everything before stumbling backward and landing with a thud back on the sofa, legs splayed out in front of him.

Shaking his head in total bewilderment Elvis decided the best plan of action would be to get him, somehow, up the stairs and into the spare room to sleep it off. Hopefully then he would be capable of taking part in a coherent conversation. "I've bin in Afghanishantan ye know. Bloody Afstan for months and months and no drink." As if coming to a decision he staggered once more to his feet. "Need a drink, ye want one?" he generously asked placing the glass of water on the side table as he attempted to wend his way into the kitchen, bumping into walls and doorways until Elvis took him by the arm and steered him towards the stairs. "I think you've had enough for both of us mate. The only thing you need to drink now is a gallon of water." Nodding in agreement Charles stumbled forward, landing on hands and knees partially up the staircase. "This is going to be bloody fun." Elvis muttered to himself as he moved to the side trying to manoeuvre Charles back on to his feet without him falling backwards.

Fifteen minutes later after a lot of cajoling, numerous threats and sheer brute force he got Charles to the top of the stairs. "Bloody hell mate, I don't know how whisky you sank but you're gonna feel it in the morning." "Don't feel enthin, she said I don' feel enthin. Bloody do. Feel sick." He slurred lurching forward. Quickly steering him across the landing and into the bathroom, Elvis stood to one side while he fell to his knees and paid homage to the great god of avocado porcelain. "Your toilet's avocado." he pointed out to Elvis. "An' your bath. Is this the 70s?" sniggering to himself at his joke. "I'slike Abigail's Party. Hey tha's a good idea. Le's have a party. I need a drink." Attempting to get to his feet, his stomach revolted at the abrupt movement and he once more bent his head over the toilet.

Seeing he wasn't going to get to bed any time soon, Elvis nipped back into his bedroom and donned his top, quickly wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale sweat. He'd been wearing the thing for 72 hours, was it any wonder it stank. Hearing what sounded like weeping coming from the bathroom he walked back through to his friend. Charles was sitting propped against the bath, his head down onto his raised knees, his arms wrapped around his legs. He moved his head from side to side as he snivelled, wiping the snot and tears on his trousers. Elvis was never very comfortable with emotion and wasn't really sure what to do so he eased himself over and sat on the edge of the bath gently patting Charles on the shoulder.

"She's gone, you know. Said she would and she has. Gone, just gone. Took Scamp with her. Just took him." His voice was becoming horse from the tears and vomiting but he continued, "Think I'm pissed you know. I'm pissed and she's gone gone gone" he began to list sideways with the last words before jerking to the side and once more investigating the inside of the toilet bowl. "Oh fuck it." growled Elvis, again leaving the bathroom, this time to head down the stairs, returning s few minutes later with a bucket, plastic bin liner, bottle of water and a glass. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom as he passed he headed into his own bedroom. Spreading the bin liner down the bed and pillow he covered it with the towel, strategically positioned the bucket at the side and put the water and glass on the unit on his own side of the bed.

Looking pitifully down at his friend, he reached out to pull him unsteadily to his feet and guide him through into his bedroom, "Come on mate, time for bed. I'd much rather you dossed down in the spare room but I'm knackered and I need some sleep. I'm not going to get that if I'm worrying about you choking on your own vomit and moving on down the line. So, you're sleeping here. But I'm warning you… no funny business. I know I'm gorgeous but you're not my type." Having manoeuvred him on to the bed and pulled off his boots and jacket he let him fall back onto the pillow and pulled the covers over him. "Try and get some kip okay. We'll talk in the morning."

He walked round to his own side and slipped under the covers, fully dressed, just too tired for anything else.

Wanting desperately to Charlie's lead and go to sleep his mind refused to shut down, going over and over what Charlie had said. 'She' obviously meant Rebecca but where and why had she gone. Wherever it was, of course she'd take Sam, he was a baby for God's sake, barely two years old. She wouldn't just leave him, even the ice queen wouldn't sink that low. To be fair though, she really did love that baby. So, back to the question of where she'd gone and for how long. Had they been planning a holiday for his return and she'd gone without him? Don't be so bloody stupid his mind said. Charlie wouldn't be that upset or that pissed over a holiday. You know damn well what he was saying. She's left him. So, has she gone to another bloke? Back to her Dad's? Or just pissed off on her own with Sam? He couldn't see her doing the latter. She liked her comforts did Rebecca and she liked Charlie's money to pay for them. As well as his Army Captain's pay, Charlie had an income from investments made by his Grandfather James and a trust fund set up by his mother's parents. All in all he was pretty well off.

Elvis could remember the first time he met Rebecca. They were raw new recruits at Sandhurst and somehow he'd ended up in the same accommodation block as Charlie. Despite the differences in their backgrounds they became good mates, helping each other through the various aspects of their training to the point of making a pact to always be there for each other no matter what. He remembered Charlie laughing when they said that and singing a few lines from the Friends theme tune, 'I'll Be There For You'

One weekend they had been in Camberley having a few drinks when they got chatting to a group of local girls. Rebecca was part of that group and had made a play for Charles who, despite his good looks, money and cracking sense of humour had absolutely zilch confidence where women were concerned. Each time they ventured into Camberley for drink she was there, chatting to Charles to the point where Elvis was beginning to think she was stalking him. Turned out she was the landlord's daughter and had a 'thing' for the officer cadets from the Academy. It didn't take long until they were an item. Elvis was wary, there was just something about her he didn't like. Charles, however, was smitten so when she pulled him to one side one evening and told him she was pregnant he immediately suggested marriage. Elvis in keeping with their pact was his best man.. He and Rebecca maintained a healthy dislike of each other, spending time in each other's company only when absolutely necessary. Two months after the wedding Rebecca suffered a miscarriage, leaving both of them devastated.

From Sandhurst they went first to Aldershot and then to Catterick, Charles taking his little family with him. Rebecca wasn't happy but when he rented a beautiful four bedroomed house and gave free rein in decorating it she settled down. When they went on their first tour of duty to Afghanistan Charlie was the happiest Elvis had seen him since their early training days. He loved it, this is what he was born to do, he told Elvis. Second Lieutenants James and Harte returned to the UK six months later having had a successful tour, the entire platoon returning unscathed. Charlie was on a high, he was doing a job he loved, married to a woman he loved and when she told him she was pregnant again it felt like his life was complete.

Elvis rolled onto his back and glanced across at his sleeping friend. He was snoring loudly and reeked of whisky, sweat and vomit but other than that seemed to be doing okay. He turned back onto his side and reached for the bottle of water, not bothering with the glass. Taking a few good swigs he put the bottle down on the unit and lay his head back on the pillow. Smiling, he thought about Sam, Charlie's little boy. He worshipped that baby and if she tried to keep him away from his dad she'd have a major battle on her hands. Elvis thought back to the day he was born. They had been out on exercise on the Yorkshire Moors, out of radio contact for several hours. When they finally got the message that Rebecca had gone into labour Charlie had totally lost the plot so it was down to Elvis to drive hell for leather to the hospital, letting Charlie out at the door before going and parking the car. Unfortunately he could have jumped every red light en route and broken every speed limit and he still wouldn't have got them there in time, which Rebecca had held against him ever since. Samuel James was in a hurry to be born and pushed his way into the world 42 minutes before his father's arrival.

With promotion to Lieutenant came a move down to Aldershot which again hadn't gone down well with Rebecca especially as they got news they were to be deployed two months after arriving, leaving her home alone with a 20 month old baby in a place where she had no friends and knew no one. Her communications with Charles becoming more and more terse as the months passed.

It was during a fire fight on this tour that Elvis had decided to apply for Special Forces selection. Charlie loved what he was doing but Elvis liked being on the edge, dealing with major situations. They had arrived back at Brize Norton at 19:00 the evening before and Elvis had left his friend with a slap on the back to go and retrieve his car and head home to the fixer upper he'd bought just before deployment. Charlie was waiting for Rebecca to pick him up in the family car. Now, here he was, past out in the other half of his bed snoring fit the wake the neighbours. Looking at his watch he pulled the pillow over his head and tried to shut off his thoughts.

Elvis was sitting at the kitchen table searching for bathroom suites on the internet when Charles eventually made it downstairs. He'd showered and was wearing the sweats and t-shirt Elvis had left out for him, but he still looked like he'd gone nine rounds with a premenstrual grizzly bear. The cut on his cheek had scabbed over and the surrounding area was beginning to bruise and his eyes had more red lines than a map of the London Underground. Without speaking he made his way to the kettle, flicking the switch and took a disparaging look at the jar of instant coffee sitting next to it. "This all you've got?" His voice was husky and his throat hurt from the vomiting but that was nothing compared to the team of navvies with pneumatic drills currently at work inside his skull. "Any pain killers?" Taking pity on him, Elvis guided him to a seat at the table, produced two pills, a large glass or water and a mug of very strong black coffee. Looking at the pitiful sight he made he shook his head before rejoining him at the table.

"Okay, come on then, what was all that last night? You were pretty rat arsed when you got here, not making much sense." Charles lifted his head from his hands and looked balefully at his friend. "She's left me, Elvis. Cleared out while I was gone. Taken Sam and gone back to her parents, according to the lovely billet-doux she left for me." Running his hands through his damp hair he pushed it away from his face.

"When she didn't turn up at Brize to pick me up I begged a lift with one of the lads. The drive was empty and no lights on so I thought she might be having an early night. I was right, she was, just not in our bed. I tried ringing the pub and Bill said she'd gone to bed." "So you decided to celebrate, or commiserate, with a gallon of whisky? Great move mate. And how the fuck did you get here?" Shaking his head without thinking Charles quickly made a grab for it as if it might just roll right off his neck. "Decided to open that bottle your old man gave me last Christmas." Elvis's Dad was a Scot and his mum Italian but he'd been born and brought up in Essex. "The house was too quiet so I decided to come and keep you company. Rebecca's got the car so I walked." Which was no mean feat with a stomach full of whisky, Elvis lived a good ten miles from the house Rebecca had insisted they buy.

"So what happens now mate? You going to try and patch things up? Beg her to come back? What?" Giving a deep sigh Charles raised his head once again. "I've got no fucking idea. If I'm honest I'm surprised it's taken this long for her to go. Things weren't good before we went on tour, she hates me being away so much, wanted me to jack it in." Elvis wanted to be shocked by this revelation but he wasn't. Rebecca was too high maintenance to ever settle for playing second fiddle to the army. She'd tried her damnedest to mould Charles into her version of an ideal husband and father with all the trimmings of a beautiful home, immaculate child and well to do friends. Instead she got a bloke who loved living out of a Bergen, getting dirty and with the quintessential Essex Boy as a mate.

"I'm going to give her a ring." Lurching to his feet Charles grabbed his mobile and headed for the privacy of the sitting room. Or rather the premise of privacy as he'd left the doors open and Elvis could hear every word.

"Finally, you're going to talk to me then? I thought you might still have your dad screening your calls… no, I'm not being arsey, Rebecca, I think I'm being pretty civil considering…. Yes I got your letter but it didn't actually give much away did it? 'Taken Sam and gone to my dad's'…. Look, I'm tired. Just tell me what it is you want…. No way, you're not taking my son to live over a pub…. Because I won't be able to see him if you move back over there… It's my job Rebecca, you knew that when you married me…. This is getting us nowhere. Come back and we can talk about it face to face… just think about it and let me know. I want to see Sam…. Yes of course I want to see you too." Elvis heard him swear before he returned to the kitchen, "she cut me off!"

Charles tried to get through to Rebecca several times during the day but was unsuccessful. To keep his hands, if not his mind, occupied he helped Elvis strip the old tiles from the bathroom and kitchen walls, sharing pizza and water, his stomach and head still not fully recovered from the previous night's whisky, before Elvis offered to drive him home at 20:00.

Both men were surprised to see the familiar car parked on the drive when they pulled up outside the house. "Want me to come in with you? Moral support and all that." Elvis asked tongue in cheek. "Fuck off." Was his only reply as the car door slammed and Charles strode purposefully towards the house. Wondering if he should wait a few minutes, just in case, he stared at the front door. Shaking his head and telling himself not to be stupid he finally headed for home and hopefully a decent night's sleep.

Inside the James house relations were icy. Rebecca had moved away when Charles tried to take her in his arms, turning her head to avoid his kiss. "What's going on Rebecca? Have you met someone else? Is that it?" he asked wearily, dropping down on to the sofa opposite her. He could almost see her hackles rising as she glared at his. "You know damn bloody well what it is. It's this, the army, the way we live, never knowing when you'll be gone or when we'll have to pack up and move again. Every time I get the perfect house just as I want it and start to make the right kind of friends we have to move again. Or if I try to arrange nights out or meals with friends you're always on duty or off someplace with fucking Elvis." The angrier she got, the more her contrived 'posh' accent slipped making her even more angry. Rebecca wanted nothing more than to be like the women she looked up to, women like Judith who's husband worked in the financial district and commuted to a regular 9 – 5 job or Soos, who was married to an MP and had homes in London, Aldershot and a holiday home in Brittany.

Scrubbing his hands across his face, he took a deep breath, "So what is it you want Rebecca? You know I'm not going to give up my job. I've worked fucking hard to get where I am, I'm not jacking it in on a whim." Watching her cold expression pass over him, he wondered if he'd ever really known her. "I want a divorce and I want you to move out." Shaking his head, more to clear it than in negative response he opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled by her continuing, "I'll stay here with Sam and let you see him on condition that you find somewhere else to live. It will take two years for the divorce and then we'll discuss what happens next. But I'm warning you, if you get posted again, I'm not going with you. I'm staying here." Letting her finish, he calmly asked, "And if I don't? If I don't want to move out? Don't want a divorce?" "In that case, I will take Sam and move back in with my dad but I _will_ get a divorce Charles, whether you want it or not." Standing she walked abruptly from the room.

Trying to decide if it was worth following her or not, he decided to sleep on the sofa tonight, he didn't want the argument to continue upstairs in case they woke Sam, his gorgeous little Scamp. Just as he was settling down to sleep, Charles was startled by the ringing of his phone. Elvis, who else could it be? He let his voice mail take it.

"How's it going mate? All sorted? I'm there for you whatever, yeah? Just wanted you to know"


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm posting these chapters quickly before I lose my nerve and bin the lot. Thanks for reading.**

Standing in front of the hotel mirror Charles adjusted the belt of his dress uniform, rolling cello tape around his hand and patting himself down to remove any stray hairs or bits of lint. Not bad, he thought twisting from side to side. He was just reaching for his ceremonial sword when his mobile rang, "Elvis.." "Charlie, mate, where are you?" He sounded very stressed so Charles sought to reassure him, "I'm just leaving the room and heading down to the foyer, I'll be with you in a minute." Closing the door behind him, he was heading for the lift when he thought he heard Elvis say, "Don't bother mate, I'm not there." But he could've have heard that right. "What? What do you mean you're not there? That's where we said we'd meet. Are you running late?"

"You'd best go back to your room, you're going to need to be sitting down for this."

Starting to panic, Charles quickly marched along the hallway and let himself back into his room. Taking off the sword and dropping it on the bed, he sat in the only easy chair in the room. "Okay Elvis, you've got my attention and I'm sitting down so stop pissing about. Where are you? What's going on?"

"I fucked up, literally, big time." He could hear the fear and tears in Elvis's voice. He'd never heard that before and it worried him. "Is it the job? I thought you were enjoying special forces work. It can't be Georgie, she thinks the sun shines out of your fucking arse. So, what?" Elvis had met Georgie Lane while on a mission six months earlier and fallen totally, irrevocably, head over heels in love. Charles had never seen him like that about any women in all the years he'd know him. He'd been a bit of a player, always pulling the best looking women but never making any form of commitment, always happy to move on. But then he'd met Georgie and had virtually stalked her until she agreed to go out with him. Their relationship had been intense from day one, neither taking the other for granted. Georgie was a combat medic and a damn good one if the grapevine was to be believed. But both of them regularly put their lives on the line which made them acutely aware that life was fleeting so they grabbed on to what they had with both hands and held on tight. When they decided to get married, Elvis had immediately contacted is best friend to ask him to be best man and Charles had, of course, said "mate, I'll definitely be there for you, just tell me when and where." The when had been rather sooner than he'd expected and he'd jokingly asked if Georgie was pregnant. The Where was even more of a surprise, Manchester Town Hall. Elvis, a life long and very vocal hater of Manchester United FC was marrying a Manc.

"Charlie, will you shut the fuck up and listen." Charles was brought back from his musings. "I can't do it, I can't marry Georgie. I'm still down in Aldershot." A stunned silence followed his statement. Charles wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. This wasn't his friend speaking. His friend was so in love he'd fight any foe needed to be with Georgie. "Very funny mate, good joke. Now stop pissing about and get down to the foyer, you're getting married in an hour."

He was about to disconnect when he heard Elvis shout, "Just fucking listen to what I'm telling you. I'm serious. I can't get married, I can't marry Georgie." His voice broke and he had to stop to swallow a back a sob. "No, this isn't right. You love her, you're crazy about her. I've never seen anyone so besotted. What's going on Elvis? If you've got cold feet about the whole 'love honour and obey' thing, you don't have to agree to obey her any more" he joked, trying hard to lighten the mood and give his friend time to pull himself together. "I need you to do something for me Charlie. I need you to go and tell her. Tell her I'm sorry, Tell her I love her but I just can't… "

His voice broke again. "No way, no fucking way. I'm not telling her. You get to that Town Hall and tell her yourself if you've changed your mind." He was getting angry now, the joke had gone on long enough. If this was a wind up, retaliation for what happened on his stag night, then fine but time was passing and they really needed to get going. "I can't. I told you I'm still in Aldershot. I don't want to tell her over the phone, I can't do that to her. I need you to go and see her, tell her face to face. Please Charlie. Please, do this one thing for me." He was willing to beg by this point if it meant Charles would break the news gently to Georgie. Elvis knew she'd be crushed but Charles would make sure to be discreet and that she had her family nearby when he told her.

"Christ, you actually mean it. It's not a wind up. Why Elvis, what's happened?" "Look Charles, just go and do this, don't make her wait. Tell her I'm sorry." The phone went dead and when Charles tried to call back it went immediately to voice mail. "Shit, fucking shit. Which bit of ' don't get emotionally fucking involved' didn't he understand?'" Snatching up his sword he quickly fastened it on, tucked his hat under his arm and set off at a run. He only hoped there was a taxi waiting at the rank outside the hotel.

Thankfully Lady Luck was on his side for that at least. Handing over the fare he leapt from the black cab and sprinted across the pedestrianised area outside the town hall and in to the spacious foyer. Glancing around he spotted people in wedding finery milling about at the top of the grand staircase so set off again, taking the steps two at a time. His heart was in his throat and his stomach in complete rebellion as he marched quickly past the guests seated expectantly in rows, all following his journey with curious eyes. He saw Georgie's mum rise and follow him as he passed. Georgie, looking beautiful in a long white wedding gown, her hair pinned up around her face, was waiting with her father. The look she gave him as he approached was pleading, begging him not to be bringing bad news. He wished to god he didn't have to do this. Didn't have to be the one to break her heart.

Leading her to a small side area for privacy he shared with her the conversation he'd recently had with Elvis. He couldn't answer her questions about why, he honestly didn't know. He gratefully handed her over to her father, giving her parents what little information he had. Apologising for being the bearer of such bed news before striding rapidly down the staircase out back out of the building.

Taking gulps of refreshing cool air, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tried once more to call Elvis but again he was directed straight to voicemail. Holding his sword to his side, why the fuck had he bothered putting it on, he marched quickly out of Albert Square and hailed a passing cab to take I'm back to the hotel. Whilst getting showered, changed and packed he tried phoning several times, all with the same result. He left numerous messages but when he got no response decided to head back home. He was seriously worried for his friend. Elvis could be a bit of a dick at times and occasionally careless with other people's feelings but he was never deliberately cruel or hurt some one on purpose. Unless they were the enemy of course.

Putting his suit carrier and overnight bag into the boot he set up the hands free for his phone and attempted to call his friend again. "Pick up, pick up, pick up. Come on you bell end, pick up the bloody phone." Carefully manoeuvring through the city centre traffic he headed out of town towards the motorway south, his mind working through all the scenarios he could think of as to why Elvis had done what he'd done. "Well he's definitely not gay," he ticked that one off his mental list. "Has he got money problems? Is he a gambler and got loads of debt? No, he'd say if he had, he knows I'd help him out." He continued to hypothesise as he drove home, being careful to stick within speed limits even though he wanted to floor it. He'd used some of his trust fund to buy the Alpha Romeo when he'd separated from Rebecca a year ago, using the fact she'd needed the family car as an excuse. The miles flew past as his mind whirled from one thing to another and before he knew it he was on the outskirts of Aldershot. Should he head home first or straight round to see Elvis? Opting for the former he turned towards his little cottage near the army camp. He needed to eat something, he'd missed out on the wedding lunch and buffet and he needed food in his stomach before facing Elvis as there would no doubt be alcohol involved.

A cup of strong coffee and a cheese and ham sandwich later he was back in his car and heading across town to the little fixer upper Elvis had bout nearly two years ago. His car was on the dive which was a good sign, at least he hadn't gone any where. Or at least he hadn't driven anywhere to be more accurate. Charles had a key to the house so didn't bother knocking, calling out for his friend as he searched the downstairs rooms. He found him sitting at the kitchen table nursing a bottle of beer. Not his first, thought Charles as he spied the empties lined up on the draining board.

"How drunk are you?" he asked casually to try to keep things light. "Not drunk enough, and this is my last one." He responded mournfully, raising the bottle to indicate his last one. Nodding Charles walked across the kitchen and switched the kettle on. "Your abysmal coffee it is then and then, we're going to talk and you are going to tell me exactly why you had me go and break that woman's heart." he warned his friend. Coffee made, he placed a cup of the hot brew in front of Elvis and casually slipped the half full beer bottle out of his hands, tipping the beer down the drain and adding the empty bottle to the row on the draining board. "Shame they're not green" his brain thought frivolously.

Sitting down, he leaned back in his chair, arms folded in front of him. "So?" he prompted. "So I couldn't marry her." was the sullen reply. "So you keep saying but I'm noticing you keep saying couldn't not didn't want to. Did you want to marry her?"

Elvis nodded dejectedly, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. "Okay, so let's get this right. You wanted to marry her but couldn't?" "That's right." "Are you going to expand on that or are you sticking with name, rank and bloody serial number bullshit?"

That brought a fleeting smile before he went back to staring morosely at his coffee. As if coming to a decision, he took a breath, "I didn't want to hurt her." Charles, who had just taken a drink, spat hot coffee across the table. "Well you fucked up there mate because I left one VERY hurt lady in Manchester."

Leaning back in his chair and looking towards the ceiling, Elvis tried to stop the tears from falling. "You don't understand, I love her so fucking much, I ache when she's not there. It feels like my heart has been ripped out but I just couldn't marry her, not now. It wouldn't be right and she'd hate me for it." "Well you've got that right. She certainly hates you right at this moment." Charles didn't pull any punches hoping to guilt trip his friend into revealing the real reason for his actions. "Did you think she'd be jumping for joy, happy to be stood up at the fucking altar in front of all her friends and family? Yeah, you're a bit delusional there mate." "We can go back and forth like this all night if you want but I'm not leaving here until I find out what's really happened"

Studying Charles, Elvis tried to work out hoe serious he was. He wasn't sure he could cope with that look of reproach for much longer. He didn't want to tell just how badly he'd fucked up his life, just like he didn't want to have to tell Georgie. He couldn't bear the thought of them knowing just how stupid and careless he'd been.

Finally giving in and letting the tears come, he wiped his eyes and nose on the bottom of his t-shirt.

"Do you remember that girl, the one we met with her friend just after you split with Rebecca?" Following his separation Charles had slipped back into his pre Rebecca days, going out drinking with Elvis, watching him work his Scottish-Italian charm on the women they met. That had stopped when he met Georgie for which Charles's liver would be forever grateful. "Which girl? There were a lot of girls and I mean A LOT." A raise of the eyebrows had Elvis looking shamefaced. "Deb, the dark haired one, curves in all the right places, vet nurse. Saw her a few times until I got posted on that mission where I met Georgie." He stumbled on her name as if it hurt even to say her name. Thinking back, Charles tried to sort through the mental images of the girls that Elvis had hooked up with. "Okay, I think I've got her, did she have a tattoo of a dog or something on her shoulder? So what has she got to do with anything."

She turned up at the door this morning just as I was getting into the car. I swear Charles, I had every intention of turning up, marrying Georgie. I love her more than anything, you know that." "Right, you love her so much that when an ex turns up you immediately dump her. Strange form of love that." Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Oh piss off Charlie, do you want to know or don't you?" He was getting angry now. Angry at Deb for turning up on his wedding day. Angry at Georgie for being so bloody perfect and having such high expectations of him. Angry at himself for dealing with the whole fucking situation so badly and angry at Charlie for being right while being so incredibly wrong.

"Get on with it then." Charles ordered. "So Deb the ex turned up as you were leaving and then….?" "Well she wasn't on her own. She'd brought her daughter with her, her two month old daughter. My daughter." He clarified in case Charles was in any doubt. "I've got a daughter Charlie. How am I supposed to tell Georgie that… on our wedding day? It would break her heart. This way she can move on, not know what a fuck up I am."

Charles shook his head pityingly, taking in the broken man before him. "I think you should have given her the benefit of the doubt but that boats sailed now. No going back there. What are your plans now? Will you marry Deb? Is that what she wanted? Why did she wait so long? Had she heard about your wedding and decided to put the skids under it?"

"No, I'm not going to marry her. There's nothing between us except Laura, that's the baby's name. Deb said she wasn't going to tell me but then thought Laura had a right to know about her daddy so she came looking for me. As to the wedding. I don't even think she knew I was getting married and I certainly didn't tell her this morning. Shit, I've fucked up big time but I wasn't going to rub her nose in it saying I was getting married to the woman I dumped her for." "Well, if it was revenge she wanted for being dumped, she certainly got it today. Two stones to kill one bird."

"What happens now Elvis? Are you going to make things legal for the baby? I'm presuming your name's not on her birth certificate as you weren't there when she was registered. Come to that, are you 100% sure she's even yours?" "She's mine. You should see her Charlie, she's the double of my sister when she was a baby. Same big dark eyes, dark silky hair, olive skin. She mine. I'd stake my life on it. I'll go and see a solicitor next week. Who did you use for Sam? Were they any good?"

The two men talked late into the night, Charles coming from the stance of already having gone through setting up custody and visitation rights along with maintenance. Elvis tried to take it all in, his head buzzing with facts and figured. This time yesterday he'd been dreaming of spending a lifetime with Georgie, having kids and grandkids, growing old together. Now he had a daughter with a woman he didn't love and wasn't sure he'd ever loved. What a fucking mess.

Feeling there was nothing more he could do for his friend he got up to leave. "One last thing Charlie, do me a favour. Don't tell anyone about this. You know what the jungle drums are like. I don't want it getting back to Georgie."

Nodding his agreement, he gave Elvis a brief hug with a few thumps on the back as men do and stepped out into the night.

"I'm there for you mate, your secret's safe with me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Elvis, darling, I need you…" there was a pause and a gulp on the other end of the line before the caller continued. "I need you to help Charles, he's in a bad way and you're the only one I know who may understand, even remotely, what he's going through." Another sob and then silence while the other person composed themselves. "He's come back this time and I just don't recognise him. He won't speak to me, barely eats, hardly leaves his room except to go running. He's completely withdrawn in to himself." "Give me a couple of hours to get cleaned up and organise things here and I'll be on my way, Juliette. Hang tight, we'll soon get your boy sorted. If he won't talk, I can always try the swift kick of the combat boot six lace holes up his arse." He heard the watery chuckle at the other end of the phone and frowned. Could Charlie really be that bad? What the fuck had happened? Last he'd heard he'd been back off on another tour of Afghanistan. "Thank you Elvis. I wish his dad was here but he won't be back for another month and I don't think he can wait that long." "No worries darlin' I'm on my way"

Looking around his kitchen he tried to decide what absolutely must get done before he left for Bath. After considerable blood, sweat and tears, quite literally at times, the top floor of his house had now been fully renovated and he'd chosen the kitchen as the next room to focus on. He'd moved the fridge freezer through into the sitting room out of the way along with his table and chairs. The rest of the appliances would need replacing so he'd left them where they were and was in the process of boxing up the contents of cupboards and drawers when his phone had rung. He had a real soft spot for Juliette James, she became almost a second mum to him during his year at Sandhurst and had been a friend and mentor on many occasions since. She was a tough old bird, although at 57 if she heard him call her that she'd kick _his_ arse. If she was worried about Charlie it must be bad. Moving the last box through to the sitting room he phoned Spanner, one of the lads from his team who had offered to help him rip out the old kitchen, to give him the heads up. "I'm going to be away for a few days, a friend needs me… No, nothing like that, get your mind out of the gutter… Look, I'll leave the key in the usual place, see if you can get a couple of the other lads to give you a hand… No mate, it can't wait. Thee new units are being delivered on Monday and I've promised to have Laura for the weekend so I want all the mess out the way. Great, cheers mate." Hanging up he took a quick scan round to see if he'd left anything before bounding upstairs to take a shower and throw some things into his Bergen.

As he drove he tried to imagine what could possibly have happened to send Charles over the edge. He should have asked Juliette for details but he'd been in too much of a hurry to get on the road. Last time he'd spoken with Charlie, he'd been on his way out of the country on a highly confidential mission and Charlie had been gearing up for his third tour of Afghan. He'd just recently been promoted to Captain and had been given his own platoon so was hot to trot. Escaping from Rebecca's incessant demands had been another incentive for leaving the country asap. Could something have happened to Sam? No, Juliette would have been able to deal with that. This had to be an army issue.

Thoughts of his godson distracted him for a time, remembering their outing a couple of weeks ago with Laura. Whenever Charlie was out of the country and Elvis was at home, he made sure to visit Sam and take him out. He was a great little kid, well adjusted considering his parents didn't live together and were often at loggerheads when in the vicinity of each other. They might be separated but that didn't stop Rebecca from trying to run Charlie's life. He'd rented a small house for a while after the separation but his soon to be ex had constantly been calling round, needing money or just wanting to 'talk' while she checked if anyone, read female anyone, had been staying there or moved in. His only line of defence had been to move back in to barracks and to stay with his parents in Bath when he was on leave. On weekends when he had Sam they generally stayed over with Elvis which Sam thought was great, being one of the men. Rebecca wasn't happy about the amount of time Sam spent in his company but had to accept it as part of the custody agreement. Maybe he should have brought Sam with him. Charlie adored his son and being with him might pull him out of whatever funk he'd got himself into. Then again, perhaps it was better that he hadn't, not knowing what he was going to find in Bath. He didn't want to frighten the little boy.

Deciding to stop trying the second guess what was coming and to just face it head on when he got there, he settled back and relaxed for the remainder of the journey.

It was late afternoon when he arrived and he'd barely stepped out of the car when the front door flew open and Juliette rushed out to meet him. Throwing her arms around his slender frame, she hugged him tight. "Thank you so much for this, I'm at my wits end. I've never seen him like this before. Not even when he came home and told us he and Rebecca had separated and he'd been pretty devastated then. I haven't told him you were coming, thought it best for you to just surprise him. A fete accompli so to speak." She knew she was rambling but was just so relieved to have reinforcements she couldn't help herself.

"Where is he?" Tilting his head toward the house in a silent gesture he guided Juliette back indoors and down to the kitchen. Charles obviously wasn't in here so he assumed he was either in his room or out for a run. Sitting down he accepted the mug of coffee she placed in front of him. "He's upstairs. I took a coffee and a sandwich up to him a short while ago and he was just lying on his bed, surrounded by books, staring at the ceiling." Taking a sip of the hot drink he shook his head at the offer of a sandwich, smiling to himself. Juliette had always faced crises with food and a hot beverage. "What happened, do you know? I thought he was still on tour." Shaking her head she joined him at the table, twisting the paper tissue in her hands, "He came home five days ago. Just walked in the door and went to pieces. It was heartbreaking, Elvis, seeing my little boy in that state." Elvis tried to hide his smile at the description of his 6' 2" tall, well toned friend as a little boy. "Has he said anything at all?" he queried. "Just that there'd been an incident and one of his men was killed. Nothing more and he's refused to discuss it with me since. When he came down in his running gear there were cuts and scrapes all over his arms and legs and I noticed his hands are bruised. Fuck knows what happened."

Elvis stared in shock at this genteel lady using the f work. She wasn't perfect and often used 'bloody' or 'sodding' but it seemed wrong to here an obscene word coming from her lips. Seeing his shock, she apologised, "I'm sorry, I'm just so bloody frustrated. He's my boy. I should be able to help him. Instead I'm sitting here wringing my hands like some heroine from an Austen novel" Placing his hand over her's he squeezed reassuringly, "We'll get him sorted, don't worry. You'll be back wishing he was silent again before you know it." Pushing back his chair he carried his cup over to the sink to rinse before straightening his shoulders and heading for the stairs. He'd stayed here a number of times over the years and was familiar with the layout of the floors. The ground floor consisted of kitchen, dining room, drawing room and informal lounge. The first floor was the domain of the senior James and. Charles had a room on the second floor along with a bathroom and guest room.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he bounded up to the second floor, giving a brief knock on Charlie's door and pushing his way in without waiting for a reply. Not bothering to check who his visitor was, Charles growled, "I've told you Mum, I'm fine, I just need a bit of peace." He nearly leapt from the bed when a familiar masculine voice replied, "Do I look like your Mum for fucks sake? Jesus Charlie, you look wrecked. What the hell happened out there?" Plonking himself down on the bedroom chair and propping his booted feet on the edge of the mattress he made himself comfortable choosing to ignore the glare being sent in his direction.

"So," he began, taking in his friend's appearance. Juliette had been right to be concerned. "What's going on mate? I'm not exaggerating when I say you look like shit. You smell like it too. You're pretty ripe. When was the last time you showered or changed your clothes?" Wrinkling his nose at the pungent aroma of stale body odour he waited for Charlie to take offence. He didn't have to wait long. "Piss off Elvis. I've just come in from a run and was heading for a shower when you barged in uninvited." His voice was devoid of emotion and if his appearance hadn't been enough to cause major concern, that would certainly have rung a few alarm bells. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you'd be off saving the world somewhere with your little band of ninjas."

"Petulance and sarcasm doesn't suit you Charles. Your mum phoned me. She's worried about you and I can see why. You're a fucking mess." "Well she shouldn't have done. I told her, I'm fine. I just need some peace. Now if you don't mind Elvis, just fuck off mate." Pushing up off the bed, he headed for the bathroom in the mistaken belief that Elvis would indeed, 'fuck off'. Instead, on hearing the shower running, he headed back down the stairs in search of Juliette. He found her in the lounge, nursing what looked to be the same half drunk cup of coffee. As he looked at her he could see the lines of tiredness and stress around her eyes, her hands shook slightly as she leaned forward to place the cup on the coffee table.

"How is he? Will he talk to you do you think?" "Well, so far he's told me to piss off and fuck off but he's now in the bathroom taking a shower so I think we're making progress." he gave her a reassuring wink and settled into the armchair. "Now he knows I'm here, I'll let him stew a bit before I try again. If there's one thing I've learned about your son in the years I've known him, he can be a stubborn bugger when he wants to be." Nodding her agreement she rose to her feet, "How about I make us some pasta for dinner and you can tell me all about that little girl of yours while his nibs gets his tail out of a tangle?" Laughing, Elvis followed her through to the kitchen, already chatting about Laura, a subject he was more than happy to talk about.

Upstairs on the second floor, Charles walked warily back to his bedroom, half expecting Elvis to be exactly where he'd left him. Relieved that he wasn't but under no misapprehension that he'd left the house, he threw the damp towel onto his bed and retrieved fresh underwear. Looking at the scatter of books and papers strewn across his bed he realised just how tired he was. He didn't have the energy to continue his search for the perfect reading tonight. He hadn't slept properly since he got home, barely managing to close his eyes before the nightmares started. He knew he needed to pull himself together, the funeral was the day after tomorrow and he was expected to lead his men and do a reading for Private Geraint Smith. Just thinking the name made his stomach twist in knots and the taste of bile fill his mouth, so how the hell was he supposed to talk about it. Pushing everything to one side of his bed he climbed between the sheets and settled his head on to the pillow, allowing his tired, red rimmed eyes to close and his tormented brain to shut down for a short time.

Being used to sleeping with an ear half cocked, Elvis was up and moving within seconds of hearing the sound. Charles had been out cold when he'd looked in on him on his way to bed. That was obviously not the case now. Pushing the door open he flicked on the overhead light. "Turn that fucking thing off." Came the gruff order from the bed. Complying he moved forward in the dark, deciding not to risk sitting on the bed. Treading carefully over to where he knew the chair to be, he eased himself down on to it. "Don't get comfortable, you're not fucking staying." Continued the gruff voice. Charles could hardly believe that voice was his. He sounded like Sergeant Johnson when he'd been smoking three packs a day. He lay staring at the ceiling and waited. He knew Elvis hadn't left the room so it would only be a matter of time before he spoke. He hadn't given his friend enough credit for patience he admitted as the silent minutes stretched on. When he could stand the brooding silence no longer he pushed himself up on the pillow and spoke in to the darkness. "Look Elvis, I don't know what you want but if you wouldn't mind just seeing yourself out, I'm trying to sleep." "And I'm a 5'8" blond with blue eyes and a 36DD chest" came the ludicrous reply, "so pull the other one Charlie. I heard you shout out." "It was just a bad dream okay. I'm fine, now bugger off and let me get some kip." His tone was determined and Elvis knew when it was better to retreat rather than fight. "Okay, But be warned mate, we are going to talk. You can't avoid me forever." Sighing Charles rolled on to his side and waited for his friend to leave, preparing himself for another sleepless night.

Charles was up and out before sunrise, pounding the streets of Bath as he tried to burn off some of the stress currently coursing through his body. Running had always worked for him before, distracting him from his worries, calming his disordered brain. But not today. Today he knew nothing would work. He wasn't going to be able to ignore his thoughts, was going to have to face what happened. Elvis was a pushy bastard at the best of times and he could only put him off for so long. Running his hands through his sweat soaked hair, he pushed it back off his face and changed his course, heading for the park. He'd only made it through the park gate when he saw the other figure running along the path beside the duck pond heading towards him. "Shit" he said aloud, recognising the figure pounding towards him. Could he not just have half an hour more before the Spanish Inquisition. Don't you mean the Italian Inquisition a tired voice in his head asked. Slowing his steps he waited for Elvis to draw level before continuing along his route without speaking. Accepting that that was how it was going to be, Elvis kept pace with him but made no attempt to engage him in conversation.

A gruelling hour later Charles let them back in to the house and headed to the kitchen for a bottle of water. His mum was already at the table with a cup of tea but jumped up as he entered. "Good morning darling, how are you? Shall I make you some coffee." "I'm fine, I just need some water." he answered abruptly turning to push past Elvis and head up the stairs. Elvis waited for a moment, listening before nodding to himself and heading on into the kitchen. Leaning down he brushed a kiss on to Juliette's cheek before reaching for a cup and the half full tea pot. "Morning darlin', we're making progress. He's gone straight in to the shower." Grinning he took a sniff at his own underarm before grimacing. "He was awake during the night but still wouldn't talk to me so I think it's time to play dirty and pull out the big guns." Answering her questioning look with a tap to the side of his nose, he took his tea and headed off for his own shower before breakfast.

He gave Charles a couple of hours to show his face but when that didn't happen strode determinedly up to the second floor. Charles was once more on his bed surrounded by books and papers so Elvis headed for his perch on the bedroom chair. "Okay Charlie boy, you've got two choices. You can talk to me or your mum…" "Not going to happen." Charles interrupted before he finished setting out his options. "OR," he continued firmly, " I give Major Beck a ring and ask him to make an appointment for you with the Army Psych." The look of such betrayal quickly followed by hatred made him want to do a fist pump. "Your choice Charlie but I'm deadly serious so don't think too long about it."

Before Charles could answer he stood and walked out of the room, pulling the door gently closed behind him. He found Juliette on the first floor landing, panic in her eyes. "Has he kicked you out again?" "Nope. Give him half an hour to set him mind to it and I think he'll be down to talk to us." Smiling he wrapped an arm around her waist and lead her down the stairs. His calculations were off slightly and it was closer to an hour before Charles walked reluctantly into the kitchen. "I need coffee if I'm going to do this." Juliette immediately jumped from her chair but he waved her back down. "I'll do it. Anyone else need one?" Having ensured everyone had a drink he could put it off no longer, slumping down into his seat.

"It all went to shit," he began, obviously talking about his tour. "We had a mission to seek out and break up a small Taliban cell in the mountains. We spent weeks planning it, studying the terrain, identifying any known risks, gathering intel. It was a text book mission. The lads were keen, worked really well as a group, so focussed." His voice was emotionless, stating the facts as if reading them from a report,, as if he hadn't lived every single second of it. Keeping his head down, avoiding eye contact he continued. "We set off a couple of hours before dawn, intending to get dug in before the sun came up, planning for a surprise attack. Only we were the ones who were fucking surprised. They'd been tipped off and were waiting for us. We didn't even have time to get to cover before they started firing." Stopping to take a gulp of his coffee he caught a silent look pass between his mum and Elvis. 'Is this what it's like?' the looked asked. 'Sometimes' was the reply.

Steeling himself for what was to come, he closed his eyes only to reopen them immediately he saw the sight imprinted on his eyelids. "The lads scattered, taking cover where they could. We radioed for support, we'd been led to expect had a dozen maybe eight of the bastards at the most but there were at least twice as many and they knew that mountainside like the back of their hands." Tears had begun to seep from his eyes and trickle down his face and his hands shook where they gripped his cup. "It went quiet after a while and all we could do was sit and wait either for the sun to come up or to be picked off one by one. We didn't dare move, we didn't know where they were or exactly how many they were. It felt like days waiting. I could hear the lads whispering to each other now and then when the silence got too much. I knew I should silence them in case they gave away our location but truth be known, I needed the sound of their voices as much as they did."

Juliette had begun quietly weeping for her son. Elvis reached out blindly, his eyes never leaving his friend, and took her hand. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Charles moved to the machine and made himself another cup of coffee. He didn't offer the others any this time, he was too focussed on getting through this. Joining them back at the table he cleared his throat and began again.

"Just after it got light the fly boys came in, taking out a couple of larger groups and we tried to make our way back down. We didn't know how many were still alive but we'd been given the order to pull out. We were almost back to the transport when there was a shot. Nobody could see where it came from but someone shouted man down and everything just seemed to go crazy with people diving for cover." "One of your men was hurt?" Asked his mother quietly as if frightened to disrupt is train of thought. "Not even a man Mum, he was a boy, not even out of his teens. Private Geraint Smith. He was a brilliant soldier, had so much potential but more importantly he was a really decent lad, popular with everyone. He had a twin brother who's just recently joined up because of him. He was somebody's son Mum." He began to weep openly, wiping the tears and snot away with his sleeve. It was an indication of how equally upset his mum was that she didn't reprimand him.

"He'd fallen part way down into a shallow ravine. He wasn't moving and there was no sign of life, blood was pissing out of a hole in his neck. I couldn't just leave him there as a trophy for those bastards. I took off my pack, got down on my belly and started to crawl." He heard his mum suck in a breath before letting it out slowly. "I didn't know how far it was, I just knew I had to get him. I could hear Beck shouting at me down my earpiece to just leave him but I just kept going. I knew before I reached him, he was gone. There was just so much blood. They'd hit his carotid artery, he would have bled out in minutes. An the smell. I can't even begin to describe the smell of blood and sweat and piss." Again taking a fortifying drink of coffee he seemed to gather himself together. "I managed to drag him back to the others who took over and carried him the rest of the way to the transport. Kinders, my corporal helped me down the path, I had't felt the cuts and scratches at the time but when the adrenaline cut off I could barely walk. The trucks got us back to the fob and then choppered into Bastion. By us I mean Smith and myself. I wanted to stay and de rife the lads but they wouldn't let me. Beck wanted to see me and I had to get looked over by the medics. I got a bollocking for disobeying an order but I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is leading those men into an ambush, getting one of them killed and then not being there to help the rest of them through it. I should have been there for them." Feeling drained, he rose once more and this time left the room, heading back upstairs.

Elvis took Juliette into his arms and held her as she cried for her son. Any sign of the boy he once was was now gone. All that remained was a battle scarred man. He rocked her gently until she was spent, then led her through to the lounge and settled her on the sofa under a throw before heading up the stairs to deal with the aftermath of the morning's confession.

Rapping smartly on the door and marched in, this time standing tall at the foot of the bed staring at his friend. "You know that's a load of bollocks don't you." he demanded. Startled, Charles glared at him, about to speak. Holding up his hand Elvis stopped him. "It's total utter bollocks. You are not God. You cannot take responsibility for the actions of madmen. The only person whose actions you can take responsibility for is yourself. Although there have been times I've doubted you were even responsible for those. Look mate," he began, sitting once more in the chair. "You did your job. You all did going on that mission. It was an order from above you had no choice. Major Beck gave the order so maybe you should blame him? No, I thought not." Taking each point of Charles's guilt he lined them up and shot them down like targets on the firing range, not giving Charles the opportunity to interrupt or argue.

"Okay so secondly it was an ambush. How the fuck can you be to blame for that one? Did you phone up the leader and tell him you were on your way? No, I thought not. So not your fault. Three. Did you fire the shot that killed Smith? Of course you bloody didn't. See where I'm going with this Charlie? The bastard with the assault rifle who took the shot is responsible for Smith's death. Not you." He could see the glazed stare beginning to leave Charles's face as if he was starting to breath for the first time in days. Pushing his advantage he continued, "You chose to disobey an order and retrieve his body so yes, you get to accept the blame for that. It was a fucking stupid thing to do Charlie, you could have ended up dead yourself, leaving Sam without a dad, your parents without a son and me without a friend whose arse I can beat every time at poker. Having said that, I'd have done the same thing myself. Hell, I bet even Beck would have done the same. Now finally, being there for a poxy bloody debrief, why did you need to be there? Would you have been allowed to take statements? What did you want to do, hold their hands? Kinders was just as capable of doing that. They were probably happier knowing you were getting treatment for all your little knocks and scratches." It would take time for him to heal but he'd planted the seed and set him on the right road.

Charles let him wind down before reaching out to him, exchanging the expected brief hugs and thumps on the back, "thanks mate." he said quietly. Grinning at him in relief, Elvis took in the mess on the bed. "You gonna tell me what all this shit's about?" waving his hand vaguely over the books and papers. "Geraint's mother has asked me to do a reading at the service tomorrow and I'm trying to come up with something appropriate. I've been searching through these books for some inspiration." Charles looked hopefully at his friend.

"Mate, you know I'll always be there for you. But you're on your own with that. I don't do poetry and that crap."


	4. Chapter 4

Practically running through the corridors of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham, Elvis stopped only to check the directions. He'd heard the news only hours ago when he'd landed at Brize. He couldn't believe the silly bugger had done it again. Got himself shot this time. With a quick glance through the window he pushed his way into the room, acknowledging Rebecca with a nod and dropped quickly to his knees to catch Sam as he threw himself at him. "Uncle Elvis, a bad man shot Daddy, there was lots and lots of blood." his eyes round with awe. "And a funny soldier lady saved him." "A funny soldier lady?" raising an eyebrow questioningly towards Charles where he sat up in the hospital bed.

A slight almost imperceptible shake of the head was his only response to _that_ question. "Good to see you Elvis. I hear you've been holidaying in war zones again." Accepting the change of subject he settled himself into the hard plastic chair.

"I thought I was the one that went on dangerous missions. How the fuck did you manage to get yourself shot? Playing hero again?" Before he could answer, Rebecca rose from her own chair. Bestowing a glaring look of hatred on Elvis she leaned over and planted a kiss on Charles's cheek. She had been aiming for his lips but a quick move of the head foiled that. "Take care Charles, I'll be back tomorrow. Think about my suggestion." Ignoring Elvis she took Sam by the hand and lead him protesting out of the hospital room.

"Shit, as if being shot isn't bad enough, she's been here every bloody day." Charles flopped back on to the pillow with a sigh of annoyance. "What happened? What's she doing here? Where're Juliette and Philip? I couldn't believe it when I got your text saying you'd been shot and she was hovering like a fart under a duvet. I thought it was a wind up." "So that's what took you so long to come? I sent that text nearly a week ago. Mum and Dad had booked a month in Lake Garda before this happened so I told them to go, I'd be fine. But then I didn't know how difficult it would be to escape Rebecca's plans which will probably scupper my own plans."

"Her plans? Your plans? Look mate just start at the beginning. Oh and I was taking down some pretty bad men of my own if you must know. That's why I only just got here. Only got back in the country a couple of hours ago so you can cut the 'poor me' crap"

Grinning, Charles pulled himself upright again. "I've met someone." "Bloody hell Charlie, that was quick work, you've only been in here a month and most of that you were out of it so the nurse said when I phoned. By the way, if anyone asks, I'm your brother. Only way I could get them to tell me anything." "Not in here, I met someone in on Tour, a medic…" "Good choice, medics are my favourite too. So you met her at Bastion?" Knowing Elvis would be thinking about Georgie, also an army medic, Charles gave him a few moments to refocus.

"Not at Bastion, on the tarmac at Brize, she's my medic." "Christ Charlie, are you insane? You could end up dishonourably discharged, fucking around with one of your platoon. I take it she's the funny soldier lady?" Elvis was trying to get to grips with his friend's stupidity, rubbing his hands over his face to try and take things in.

"We weren't fucking around. Nothing happened, well almost nothing happened." He looked pleadingly at Elvis for understanding. After all, he'd fallen for Georgie while they were on a mission.

"She's special Elvis, bright, feisty, funny, sexy and a fantastic soldier. I didn't want to fall for her, it just happened. In fact, I thought I'd cocked things up when she found out about Rebecca and Sam from someone else, thought I was still married, accused me of lying. No kidding Elvis, when I thought I'd lost any chance with her it hurt more than when Rebecca left." Struggling to equate this love sick puppy, willing to flaunt his beloved rules and regulations with Mr Live By The Army Book himself, he just continued to stare.

"Well say something." Charles was getting angry now, he didn't need Elvis's approval but he did want his support and his help. "I assume you patched things up? Was that before or after you got shot?" "Before. It was actually one of the factors in my getting shot." Watching Elvis shake his head in disbelief he knew he had to set things straight.

"We were on a mission to identify and capture a Taliban most wanted. Molly, that's my medic, Private Dawes, well she's the only one who could ID him. Anyway, I'm not going. Into details but we sorted stuff out while we were waiting for the target and, well, er… we kissed. Nothing else and it was a really brief kiss and a few words were spoken. We had no idea anyone had seen us, we were in a little side room of the compound we were hiding in." Elvis sat forward as if to interject but Charles held his hand up. "Just let me get this out okay and then you can bollock me all you like. So, the signal came and we set off. We were both focussed on the mission, she was totally professional. Only there was another private, Private Dylan Smith, who was in love with her too. He was the one who'd seen and minutes into the mission he flipped, totally lost the plot. To be fair, he shouldn't have been there in the first place. Molly had warned me he was in the wrong frame of mind, he's the twin brother of the soldier I lost on my last tour. Remember?" He waited for Elvis to nod, shock written all over his face. It took a lot to shock Elvis Harte but Captain Charles James had just managed it. "I should have listened to her, had him sent home as soon as she told me but I wanted to give him a chance, he'd been number 1 in his section all through training, he just needed to settle down, I thought. We were at the truck, Molly looking through the people in the back when a shot was fired. Not the one that hit me, Smurf, Private Smith, had shot this Afghan blokes goat, was goading him to go for his gun. Only the bloke didn't have a gun, that's when I took my eye off the ball. Left Molly unsupported at the truck and went back to deal with Smurf. Turns out he'd seen us kiss and heard what we said and decided I'd ruined his life. I honestly thought he wanted to die at that moment or wanted to kill someone, possibly me."

He stopped, reaching for a glass of water, taking several gulps before continuing. "Molly had spotted the insurgent, dressed as a woman, and shouted a warning to everyone to take cover but he'd jumped up firing. I couldn't even get a shot off before he'd shot me in the stomach and leg. Smurf took one to the upper arm. All hell broke loose with ANA and our lads shooting. Molly started giving me treatment while dealing with Smurf at the same time. I could hear the lads shouting down the radios, asking if anyone had eyes on. I swear Elvis, I have never seen anything like it. She'd ripped the pistol out of my holster and taken him down with a single shot. No hesitation at all. She saved all three of us and god knows how many more if he'd managed to get back on his feet."

"Okay, she sounds amazing, a real super woman but I still don't get why you want me here." "It's Rebecca." he said and waited. It didn't take long for the eruption to happen.

"Oh no, no no no no No and just for clarity NO. No fucking way and I keeping Rebecca occupied while you get your end away with your sexy medic. Anyway, there hospital rules about that sort of thing." Elvis had risen as he was talking and was heading rapidly for the door. "Don't panic, that's not what I want from you." Charles was finding it difficult to hold back his laughter at Elvis's reaction. "It's more I need you to volunteer to come and stay with me until Mum and Dad get back. "You want me to play nursemaid? At risk of repeating myself, no fucking way. I'm not wiping your shitty arse. It's bad enough when I have to do Laura's and her's is nowhere near as big and hairy as yours." He shuddered at the very thought of it. He loved Charles like a brother but you had to draw the line somewhere.

The hysterical laughter coming from the bed was too much. He was an inch away from giving him a punch in the gut when he remembered Charlie's injury. "When you've finished pissing yourself at my expense can we finish this conversation so I can go and get some shuteye?" He was seriously not amused and his fuse was getting shorter by the minute.

"Alright, I'm sorry… but your face…." laughter threatened to take over again so he took a drink to try and drown it. "I don't want you wiping my hairy arse, I'm quite capable of doing that myself. I need you to say you're coming to stay to put Rebecca off. I forgot to change my next of kin so they informed her when I got shot. She's been here nearly every day since, with and without Sam." "I thought the divorce was all sorted?" "It is but she's got it into her head that I'm going to leave or be medically discharged so we can be the 9 – 5, holiday cottage in France type of family she dreamed of. Of course it's not going to happen but she isn't listening to me. She sold the house and is looking for somewhere a bit more manageable financially for her so, when Mum let slip they were heading off to Italy she ' _suggested'_ she come and stay with me while she's looking. Honestly Elvis, I can see it in her eyes, she's got it all planned out. Playing happy families with Sam, so I'll end up giving in rather than hurting him. The woman scares me to death. I'm having nightmare of that scene in Misery where Kathy Bates has James Caan tied to the bed."

This time it was Elvis's turn to laugh. With tears running down his face, he took in the pleading look in Charlie's eyes, "So you want me at your mum's because you know if I'm there she won't come within ten miles of the place? What about your hot medic?"

"Will you stop calling her that, her name's Molly. And that's just it. I don't actually want you to stay with me, just say you will to stop Rebecca getting any ideas of a happy reunion. I don't really need any help, the stomach wound has healed well and they're giving me a walking boot for my leg so apart from being a bit unsteady, I'm fit to go. I've provisionally arranged a date with Molly and I'm hoping to persuade her to stay over for a few days while the parents are away." He finished the last bit with a salacious grin and a wink.

Elvis thought it over for a while before coming to a decision. "When are you being released and when's your date?" "I'm supposed to get out on Friday and I'm seeing Molly on Tuesday. Mum and Dad are back the following Sunday."

"Why am I not surprised you've got it all worked out.," Elvis mused, "Okay, here's my counter suggestion. I'll pick you up on Friday, extricating you from Rebecca's clutches it need be. Drive you home and stay with you until Tuesday morning, pissing off home before your se… lady arrives. That way, if doubting Rebecca turns up or phones over the weekend I'll be there." "You're good at this subterfuge stuff." Charles laughed at his friend's cunning plan. "That, my friend, is why I'm special forces and you're just a glorified squaddie."

"Seriously Elvis, I owe you big time for this. Molly's special, I think we could have something good together. She makes me use my heart as well as my brain. Really makes me think."

"Any time Charlie, you know I'll always be there for you. But you do owe me, BIG TIME!"


	5. Chapter 5

Charles had had it with humanitarian missions, he was getting too old for this shit. All he wanted was to be home, with Molly waiting for their baby to arrive. Instead he was in a truck, haring along the sometimes non existent roads of Nepal, chasing a group of abducted children and his soldiers who had gone to their rescue. He'd had intel that the bloke who abducted the girls was part of a much bigger operation involving the Taliban. Would nothing ever go simply any more? Reaching Kathmandu hi task was to set the children on their way back home and get his team to Kabul ASAP to meet up wit Special Forces. His stomach churned, knowing exactly who the SF team would be and once more he had Georgie Lane as part of his team.

Twelve months earlier Charles had led a team on a humanitarian mission to Kenya. It was supposed to be a simple support role but he'd found that nothing was ever simple where strong minded medics were concerned. He should know, he married one. The mission had gone tits up when the NGO Health Worker had been taken hostage. In trying to find her they'd become involved in an incident resulting in Mansfield being shot Georgie in the hands of a group of fanatics. He'd known he couldn't manage alone so had requested help from Special Forces. Simple.

Instead he ended up embroiled in a situation involving his best friend and his medic.

Elvis was the last person he'd expected to see when the team arrived. He had tried every way he could to get Elvis hand the job over to someone else but he'd refused and in the end, time was running out so he'd had no choice but to accept the situation. He'd known in his gut that any situation involving Elvis Harte and Georgie Lane could only end badly. The last time had resulted in Charles having to inform Georgie that the man she loved wasn't going to be marrying her that day. It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do and had taken a long time to build bridges with Georgie. Thankfully Molly who knew Georgie from Keogh had been able to help on that score.

He'd been right, while the mission to rescue Georgie and Kiki had been partially successful, Georgie had been retrieved but not before she had seen Kiki murdered before her eyes, not all of the group had been captured. Back home in Manchester, on leave following their return from Kenya, Georgie had spotted the terrorist who had taken her hostage. An operation had been set up, once more involving Elvis. Molly had described the two of them as magnets, on the one side compellingly attracted to each other but on the other, repulsed, one pushing the other away.

This time it had ended no better than before. The terrorist and Elvis had both been shot and Georgie, who had been due to get married that very same day to a Doctor from Manchester, had cancelled her wedding, leaving her would be groom waiting at the altar.

Now, here they were, on their way to a close encounter with Elvis and his men. He was pleased to note that Georgie appeared to have moved on with her life, striking up a relationship with one of the volunteers in Nepal. Elvis, however, was another matter completely.

Seeing his friend for the first time in several months, Charles shook his hand and pounded him on the back. "You going to be able to deal with this? With Georgie? Be the professional soldier you pretend to be instead of the bell end I know you to be?" he finished with a smile. "You wouldn't have me as Godfather to Sam and this new baby if I was such a bell end. Nah, I'm good. We've moved on. It's all good." Charles wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to convince but decided he'd keep a watchful eye on his friend.

Charles had been delighted to see another old friend, Captain Azizi, and began to feel relaxed and at peace. This was the type of mission he knew well. He was in control. They briefed the teams and set off for their temporary base camp. Elvis and Georgie appeared to have come to some kind of agreement and a grudging truce had been declared. Things were progressing well.

Within twenty four hours that peace and control had been shattered. The mission had been compromised and a man he had trusted and considered a friend had betrayed him, them. Despite the dire situation they were in, Elvis was there for him, pulling him back from the brink. Their private talks went a long way towards maintaining the balance of his mind.

Charles was amused and alarmed to see George sneaking out of Elvis's billet in the early hours and went to confront him. "What the fuck Elvis? I just saw Lane doing the walk of shame. Don't tell me you're getting involved again?" "Okay, I won't tell you." Elvis quipped But he couldn't hide the joy on his face. "We talked Charlie. I mean really talked, about the past but mostly about the future. I really think we've worked it out this time." "I'm happy for you mate, I really am but if you screw up this time I will personally hold you down while Molly castrates you and believe me, the way her hormones are all over the place at the moment, she'd take great pleasure in doing it." Slapping his friend on the back in congratulations, he sat on the edge of the unmade bed and began to update him on recent intel.

It wasn't long before they were on the road again. They'd received intel as to the whereabouts of their target and were on their way to seek and destroy. Nobody could have predicted what happened that day. The teams had separated and begun searching the compound, taking out insurgents as the need arose. Georgie was treating the injured, listening through her headset. Charles was listening too and heard Elvis say the roof was clear followed by report of a possible IED. Georgie could see him on the rooftop in the distance from her position. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, a loud explosion and Elvis was flying from the rooftop, into the air and landing with a sickening thud on the hard packed dirt. Georgie was the first to reach him and started administering CPR. Charles could see, even as he approached that it was pointless. His friend was gone. Pulling Georgie away, he looked down into the lifeless eyes of his friend, "I should have been there for you." he thought as he moved her away.

Charles had had to hold it together for the others and it wasn't until he was home, in Molly's arms that he let his grief take over. He thought about everything they'd been through together, the good times and the bad and he let the tears fall.

Standing at the front of the church, Charles looked at the flag draped coffin. He couldn't picture his life loving friend in that box. He looked at Carla and Stewart, Elvis's parents, Laura snuggled up on her grandma's knee, not knowing what it was all about; Georgie supported on one side by Molly and the other by Spanner and he began to speak,

"I've been asked to do readings at the funerals of two other colleagues, brave men who fought along side me. But Elvis wasn't just a colleague, a fellow officer, he was my friend, my best friend, my brother." he stopped and took a few deep breaths. "I remember Elvis being there for me at a time I was having doubts about my career path, I was trying to find a passage or poem to read at one of the funerals I mentioned. He laughed and told me I was on my own with that, he didn't do poetry and all that crap. So when I was asked to do a reading for Elvis, I didn't look for words written by some stranger who hadn't known him, I decided to just speak from my heart."

He heard a sound from the front pew and saw Molly gather Georgie in to her arms.

"Elvis was a man of passion, compassion, bravery and soul. He lived up to his name, Harte, every day, he was all heart. He was also bloody minded, annoying, frustrating and the best friend I ever had. When we did our training at Sandhurst, we made a pact, we promised to always be there for each other and he was there for me more times than I can recount. I like to think I was there for him as many times when he needed me. That promise got broken when the silly bugger …." His throat closed up and he blinked to clear his vision. "Well, I'm making a new promise Elvis," he looked once more at the flag draped coffin. "I promise to always be there for those you loved, for your baby girl and your Mum and Dad, and for Georgie the only woman to hold your heart. I'll be there for them mate." Placing his hand on the coffin he bowed his head, moving down the step to take his wife and Georgie into his arms.

 **If you made it to the end and reviewed, thank you.**


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